Damnit, Linda.

Today, I borrowed my mom’s car (one degree closer to being Rory Gilmore with my Prius) for a quick get together in DSM with my people, because having residents of NJ, MO, and CAN in IA at the same time is an opportunity that must not be missed. I’m high on life just from seeing them all.

The car doesn’t have bluetooth or phone plug-ins and I don’t know radio stations anymore, so I resorted to the car’s CD collection–which happens to be the same CD collection I grew up listening to: the bests of Beach Boys, Rolling Stones, Beatles, Carole King, Linda Ronstadt, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap…

I didn’t particularly remember Linda’s music, but the CD sure looked familiar, so into the car it went.

Well fuck me if I didn’t find a song that’s been lingering in the back of my mind all my life. Like, “But honey child I’ve got my doubts” is something I’ve probably said word for word.

More importantly, when I’ve been assessing someone after a date or two a refrain of “I ain’t sayin’ you ain’t pretty / I’m sayin I’m not ready…” is always softly playing in the background as a it’s not you, it’s me thing.

And then today I hear it again and realize the next bit: “… for any person, place or thing to try and pull the reins in on me.”

Jesus, Ma and Pa. You ever wonder why I’m not married with kids, and I’m going to point you back to this album and all the times we listened to it.

Also, let’s have a mini post for my uncle Larry who just dove right in this Christmas: “How’s the boy situation up there?” While my first reaction was, OK, excellent, they still know I like men, I actually decided to answer his question and tell the fam I’ve dated, but that I’m impossible to date. “Give me an example.” Well, shit, a story about making the guy feel unwelcome the morning after sleeping at my house is not something I can drop into casual conversation post-mass now is it? Damnit, Larry.

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